


Wicked Apology

by ForgivenWhimsy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amaurotines (Final Fantasy XIV), Anal Plug, BDSM, Edging, Established Relationship, F/M, Hair Pulling, Ice Play, Mild Degradation, Orgasm Denial, POV Alternating, Penetrative Sex, Praise Kink, Pre-Sundering (Final Fantasy XIV), Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking, Temperature Play, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgivenWhimsy/pseuds/ForgivenWhimsy
Summary: Azem successfully counteracts the threat of the volcano, saves the Island, her people, and her vineyards. Now returned to Amaurot she must face the consequences of her defiance at the hands of her lover, Emet-Selch. She needs only apologize, but Azem, stubborn as always feels she has nothing to apologize for, Emet-Selch begs to differ.
Relationships: Azem/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	Wicked Apology

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously spoilers for 5.3, and Tales from the Shadow, henceforth known as the grape incident.

A headache pounded behind his eyes. He shouldn’t be surprised, it’s happened enough times, her disregard for the will of the convocation, and yet her defiance never failed to leave a mess. A mess Emet-Selch must invariably clean up. While she was away forestalling natural disasters, he was in the city politicking and placating the other convocation members. The more conservative among them called for a censure, and Azem could hardly afford a third. It fell to Emet-Selch to protect her, again, to lessen the sentence, again. Elidibus, and, surprisingly, Lahabrea’s testimony in her defense did much to quell the hornet’s nest Azem had managed to stir up with her most recent antics. A formal letter of apology was all that would be required from his defiant lover. Easier said than done, Azem wasn’t one to apologize when she felt she'd done nothing wrong. Emet went to rub at the bridge of his nose, knocking his mask askance, again. He was not looking forward to that conversation. 

The door to his office opened, and Emet-Selch felt a vein in his forehead pulse, “I said I will speak to her when she retur--” 

Azem stood at the threshold, her masked face framed by barely contained red curls, biting her lower lip, her robe sliding against the marble flooring as she shuffled her feet, “that bad, huh?” At least she had the sense to at least look sorry. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” Emet-Selch asked, finally removing his mask of office and throwing back the hood of his robe. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes while his chair spun in a slow circle. Azem stopped him, scarlet hair spilling from her hood when she leaned over to place a delicate kiss on the corner of his mouth. Emet half smirked. “Your wiles will not avail you this time, dear heart.” 

“What about my wiles and a peace offering?” She presented him a bottle of wine, a vintage made on the same isle she’d saved. He huffed out a derisive snort. “You’ll like it, I promise, and you look like you could use a drink.” Azem removed her mask, setting it beside his own and went rummaging for some glasses. 

He watched her, Azem, Astrea, whose soul was painted in the colours of a sunset. As cross as he was with her, he could not resist the warmth of her orbit, and rose to join her at the bar. She spun towards him, all smiles, starlight dancing in her indigo eyes as she handed him a glass of wine. So much for sorry. 

“You,” he spun a lock of red hair around his finger, “are the bane of my existence.” 

Her smile only grew, “I am the love of your life.” 

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

He bent and kissed her then, fully, tasting the maddeningly good wine on her tongue. “Welcome home, Astrea.” He whispered her true name against her lips. Sacred, his. 

“Hades.” She brushed her nose against his and closed her eyes, he felt their souls tangle into a familiar knot. A weight lifted from his shoulders, and he sighed, content at the familiar peace that overcame him whenever she was home, and in his arms. 

She pulled him, with the tips of her fingers to the sitting area overlooking Amaurot. He sat and she settled on his lap, robes hitching up her thighs. He set his free hand on her leg, fingers splayed against pale skin, tracing the familiar beauty marks like constellations. 

“So, what must I do this time to remove the bee from the convocation’s collective bonnet?” 

Hades took a long sip of his wine, “a formal letter of apology.” 

“An apology? For saving lives? For preserving a culture? Are you even tasting this wine? it’s sublime.” 

“Would you have preferred I let them carry the motion of a third censure, Astrea?” She looked away from him, scowl maring her face. “We do not interfere in the natural order.” He tilted his head, catching her eyes. “You know this.” 

“As if we wouldn’t move the heavens themselves to save Amaurot if we faced a similar threat. Hypocrites.” She downed her glass in angry gulps. “Anything else?”

“Lahabrea has been pestering me to ask you for a full report on Ifrita, to be delivered to him at your earliest convenience.” He stopped her mid eyeroll, “t’was his testimony that ultimately swayed the rest, he vouched for you. And it was his construct. I dare say the old man deserves this indulgence.”

“Lahabrea vouched for me?” 

“He and Elidibus joined me in opposition.” 

“Then he shall have his report, I’ll even go visit him in Anyder, let him talk me ears off. Does Elidibus want anything?” 

“He wanted the same thing I wanted, for you to remain Azem, and for you to come home safe.” He squeezed her thigh. “Though I’m sure he would appreciate some of that wine.” 

She huffed a laugh and leaned against his collar, her arms winding around his waist, “I can do that.” voice obscured against his robe. How easily it would be to fall asleep under her weight and warmth, basking in the glow of her soul. 

Hades slipped his fingers further into her robe, teasing at the hem of the skirt she wore beneath, Astrea hummed in approval, at least she was relaxed, she would not like what he said next. “They want your letter on the morrow.”

She straightened, her expression incredulous. “So soon?” She rose completely from his lap, “To my most honourable colleagues of the Convocation of Fourteen, I’m sorry you’re a bunch of hypocritical cowards who can’t see past the tips of your masks. Sincerely, Azem.”

“I did not realize I was a coward, dear heart. Or a hypocrite.” 

“That’s not--”

“Elidibus, youngest hypocrite to be sworn to the convocation, I shall be sure to tell him.” 

“Hades…” Astrea scowled and crossed her arms. Petulant, stubborn, brilliant woman, she would be the death of him, “but it’s not fair, I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.” 

“You could, you chose not to. Did the danger of your madcap plan even occur to you, does the worry and fear you caused in those closest to you mean nothing?” She faltered, and nibbled at her plump lower lip. He reached for her, and she placed a tentative hand in his, he pulled her close, back onto his lap. “You frightened me, dear heart, when you left without a word. Your life, your soul is most precious to me, do not be so quick to inperil it.”

“I was afraid you would stop me.” She mumbled looking properly contrite. Good. 

“I might have helped you, but you took that choice from me when you disappeared like a thief in the night.” 

“Hades, I’m...I’m sorry.” 

Hades sipped his wine and set it on the low coffee table, arched an eyebrow at her in mock surprise. “So she can apologize.” 

She stood, eyes rolling and crossed her arms. “You don’t need to be an ass about it.” 

He followed her, slowly, stretching, missing her comforting heat and circled her with a self satisfied smirk, knowing full well her obeisance would take convincing, counted on it even. He snapped his fingers. His robe blinked from view leaving him in a simple tailored button down shirt and trousers. “If you are quite done with your impertinence, I might speak of consequences.” 

A quick flick of her wrist divested Astrea of her outer robes, and Hades nostrils flared at the sight of her, she’d anticipated his game. She wore a short black skirt that was sinful in the way it hugged her hips and the flare of her bottom. Above she wore a corseted blouse, The neckline bordering indecent. Nestled between her veritable heaving bosoms was an amethyst pendant of deepest violet on a thin golden chain, a gift, a promise of forever. It was infused with his aether that she might have a piece of him regardless of how far her travels took her. 

“And what does the esteemed Emet-Selch have to say pray tell.” She gave him a sweet smile that was anything but, matching his mischief as only his lover could. 

“Restitution has been demanded of you from the convocation, and your duty demands your acquiescence. Lahabrea requests repayment for his good faith, to which you have agreed, and you have even freely offered repayment to Elidibus, though he demands nothing of you.” She followed him with her midnight eyes until he circled behind her. Delicately his fingers traced along the golden chain that held his pendant, goose flesh puckered the pale skin of her breasts. “And yet, dear heart,” he spoke directly into her ears, and though she fought it there was no hiding the fluttering of her pulse or the sharp inhale when he tugged the pendant free, body warmed, and thrumming with power, “you have offered nothing to the architect of your deliverance, your soul’s mate, whom you have wronged most gravely.” He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear and she swayed, leaning against his chest. “Whatever am I to do with you?” 

Astrea tried to turn into his arms, but he stopped her with a firm hand on her hip, she settled for turning her head towards his, “forgive me my reticence, is there anything my most beloved would ask of me?” 

He kissed the pendant and returned it to it’s enviable position and trailed his hand from waist to chest in order to palm her through her delightful blouse. “I am minded to take you over my knee, and teach you humility.” He tugged her shirt down with a swift yank, freeing her heaving breasts. “Your recent displays of defiance and petulance in the face of not getting your way leads me to believe that you have grown spoiled, and I intend to correct this most unsightly shortcoming.” He wrapped a long arm around her, pinching at her nipples harshly, she keened, dropping her head on his shoulder. His free hand traced her jawline, her throat, her lips, dipping his finger into a willing wet mouth. 

Hades dropped a chaste kiss to her blushing cheek, “and once your backside has been properly reddened,” his hand left her chest and instead tangled in her hair at the base of her skull where he pulled firm, tilting her head towards him, “you will write that blasted letter, while attended by my most tender ministrations, and only once it has been written to my satisfaction will you be offered relief.” He bent to kiss her stopping short of her lips, already her eyes were blown, a splotchy blush painting her skin, “That, dear heart, is what I ask of you. Does your pride allow it?”

His straining cock and thundering heart prayed for the briefest moment that he would not be forced to turn her away and send her to her dusty office to work alone, Astrea’s pride was monolithic, and her stubbornness unrivaled. However the slow blink of her endless eyes held promise, dazed and hungry, their last union had been moons ago, and he almost damned himself for resolving to play a long game. All that being said, the troublesome Azem wasn’t the only one who could be stubborn, particularly when he had a point to make.

“Yes.” Astrea’s answer was a whispered groan.

Hades smiled warm and wicked, “yes?”

“Yes, I concede, I have been remiss in my actions of late, I submit myself to the esteemed Emet-Selch’s _tender_ tutelage.” Her voice was a low rasp, though it held a teasing lilt. She smirked and pressed her backside into his straining crotch. She was ever the unrepentant brat. 

He kissed her mocking lips, tilting her head back gripping her scarlet hair, he tweaked her pert nipple and swallowed the resulting moan, the first of many. She still tasted of wine, and melted on his tongue. He would remap every inch of his beloved inside and out, her soul flickered around her, bright, dancing, living flame. He welcomed the immolation. 

* * *

  
  


“I got you a gift.” Hades’ voice was roughened, lips reddened and kiss swollen, the shifting gold of his eyes reduced to rings. 

Astrea caught herself, already weak kneed when he released her. Hades would make her work for it, every kiss, every touch, soft and severe, he would not be satisfied until she was a mewling, sopping mess. She watched him take a black velvet box out of his desk, and the curl of his grin grew wide when she snapped it open. Within was a smooth black plug tipped with a deep violet gem, an amethyst. It matched her necklace.

She plucked the toy from its case. “You play dirty, Selch.” The gem, like the one that hung around her neck, was infused with his aether, and he would not hesitate to manipulate it in order to torment her. 

“So ungrateful.” He fetched a bottle of oil and settled himself back on the couch. ”Are you not pleased, I recall you wanting a matching set.” Self satisfied, smug bastard. He rolled up his sleeves and waited, predatory, infinitely patient, even reclined as he was, his energy was commanding. She could not see souls as he could, but she felt that incorporeal energy slip against her, sending sparks skittering across her skin. The sensation caused a small gasp.

She dropped the plug in his open palm, and stretched out like a cat on his lap, lengthwise on her stomach, adjusting herself until she could feel his cock hard against her hip bone. She held herself up by her elbows and looked back at him over her shoulder, wiggling her arse, with a coquettish grin. 

He lovingly traced her legs, and pet her back, pushed her veritable mane of red curls over one shoulder. The heat of his hand settled between her shoulders, and he guided her down until her face was pressed against the leather of the couch. All the while his other hand kneaded her raised bottom, one cheek after the other. He removed his hand from her back long enough to harshly yank her skirt up, giving him an eyeful of the black lace she wore beneath. She felt more than heard the low rumble of his chuckle. He drew her smalls down slowly, letting them sit just below the rounds of her rump. She wiggled her bare ass again and earned a swat. 

“You are incorrigible.” He rasped, tracing the oil slicked plug over her tight bundle of nerves. She felt his aether caress her in warm, patient, circles, until she shuddered out a breath and he pressed forward, filling her with her pretty new plug. He spanked her properly then, striking the plug as he went, the effect set her nerves alight in a dichotomy of pleasured pain. 

“Count, dear heart, and should you lose your place, we will begin again.” Hades wound his hand in her hair and pulled, arching her at a severe angle, her breasts swung in the heated air, and she could smell her own arousal mingled with his cologne, a heady, intoxicating mix. The nerves in her scalp burned keeping her grounded in the moment. She worked her tongue around her mouth, wetting it enough to speak.

“Yes, most esteemed Emet-Selch.” She answered on a moan, the thread of aether inside of her grew, she felt so full, and yet, empty, her cunt squeezing on nothing. 

“Good girl.” He purred, pressing her back into the leather, firm hand holding her still at the base of her neck. 

The sharp claps echoed in Emet-Selche’s spacious office, punctuated by increasingly desperate counting, the steady percussive rhythm creating debauched music. Astrea felt the heat rising on her arse, each strike landing somewhere different, jolting arousal to her neglected cunt. The aether within her was engorged and vibrated in time with her lover’s punishing pace. She could feel the heat radiating from her tender backside. She tore weals down the leather of the couch, having long since abandoned any attempt at dignity. 

“Fifteen.” She rasped out. 

His hand stilled to pet at her, long, elegant fingers parting her swollen and dripping folds. “You are a wanton little thing aren't you, already so wet.” He sunk a finger inside, and Astrea could only moan. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you vex me on purpose.” he added a second finger, stretching her and she canted her hips to accommodate. He pumped into her at a languid pace. “What would you do if I refused to punish you?” She whimpered her answer, babbled promises to be good, to obey. “Perhaps the better punishment is no punishment at all. Mayhap your repentance would be in earnest if I refused to touch you.” 

“No, no, no. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, never again, Hades, please.” Her voice was high, near panic, he would do it, he had done it. 

Instead he quickened his pace, curling his fingers so they rubbed at the place inside of her that made her shudder, and she rutted against his hand, mindless to all but the building pleasure, the dancing tension along her spine. “Would my most disobedient, and dear heart like to cum?” 

“Yes, Hades yes, please.” 

Hades grabbed her hair and yanked her head up, a string of drool stretching from the leather. “Not. Yet.” He growled. He pulled his fingers from her cunt, leaving her teetering on a knife's edge, clenching around nothing, the torment from the plug stopped and at the angle he held her she couldn’t move her hips. He wiped her lust on her backside, where she felt it cool, each beat of her heart centered firmly in her quim. Hades spanked her again, hard, hitting the plug, and she sobbed, tears springing to her eyes. “Count.” 

“Sixteen.” 

He continued with the same methodical pace he’d started with, but through the haze of mad arousal she noted how his breath laboured, how his hip shifted and pressed his cock against her stomach. His excitement made her writh, and yet all her focus was on counting, pleasing him, obeying him, the thought of his praise shooting arousal to her core, she squeezed her thighs together.

“Hmm? What was that last one?” his voice was breathless, but steady. 

“Th-Thirty.” 

“Well done, dear heart. I knew you had it in you.” He released her hair, instead choosing to pet at the base of her skull and she hummed, preening for him. She vaguely heard the snap of his finger, “your cheeks are the same shade as your hair. Would you like some relief?” 

“Yes, please.” She sighed. 

The relief came in the shape of an ice cube he used to trace a freezing line from the base of her spine and between her cheeks. She gasped and began to squirm, but his hand was back in her hair gripping, holding, as he shushed her. The ice was removed from her skin leaving only cool water painting her heated skin. Slowly icy droplets fell onto her aching arse, tracking down the valley of her cheeks, slipping along her outer lips, and her entire body shuddered. She couldn’t see what he was doing, at a guess, letting the ice melt through his fingers, as more droplets rained down, each fresh bead of water following the paths left by the previous, all coalescing on her desperate cunt. The stimulation was a torment, feather light, and maddening. She whined in the back of her throat. 

“Please.” Astrea begged, and her body was jostled by his mirth. 

“So very impatient, I have waited moons for your return, with nothing but my memories and my hands to keep me company at night. I have ached for you, but you have made me wait for what? Grapes? Wine? Turnabout is fair play wouldn’t you say?” Cool wet fingers trailed down the curve of her backside, Astrea’s breath hitched when they reached her apex, and she opened her legs as far and the smalls wrapped around her thighs would allow, welcoming his ministrations. The temperature drop on her cunt transformed her moans into something louder, sharper, as he built her up. An icy finger slid against her pearl in maddening, toe curling, slow circles, and try as she might to rock into his palm he maintained his light touch. 

“You’ve waited so long, you could have me, take me right now, on the desk, the couch, the wall. Sate your lust, fuck me into oblivion. I have yearned for you as much as you have for me.” Her babbled sentence bit off in a keen when he pinched her clit. Leaving her once more teetering on the edge of release.

“And I will have you, my most beloved temptress, but not. yet. You forget, there is still the matter of the letter.” 

“To hells with the letter, Hades, please.” 

“Naugty girl, making false promises of obeisance. I was even prepared to help in a show of good faith.” 

She looked back over her shoulder, he was smirking, he was nowhere near finished toying with her, she narrowed her eyes. “Help me how?” 

“I shall dictate a suitable letter to you, you need only transcribe it.” And with that he lifted her onto legs that might have been a newborn fawns for all the stability they gave her. He slid her smalls down her legs, and stood before she could sink down to straddle him. 

“Why do I get the impression this isn’t going to be nearly as simple as you imply, most esteemed Emet-Selch.” She tilted her head up, she was still in a state of half undress, skirt around her waist, corset loosened hanging askance, blouse fallen completely from her shoulders.

For his part, he carded his fingers through her hair and gave her a decadent kiss, slow and warm, stoking the flame just shy of an inferno. She was so warm, and Hades helped her out of the rest of her clothes. She reached for his clothed member, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. 

“Oh but it is simple, transcribe my words, to the letter while I take my pleasure from your wicked cunt. Once finished you will have what you so desperately want.” He tugged the laces of her corset until it dropped to the floor, her blouse, without the corset to hold it up, fell away. He knelt before her, fingers at her waist, and he worked her skirt off, kissing her inner thighs before returning his gaze to her. “If I find a word or a letter is out of place, I shall paint my seed on your reddened hide, and deny you your release.” He rose, tracing light fingers along her flushed skin, pulled her hand up, and kissed her knuckles. “You will not cum without permission.” He took her chin between two fingers, “am I understood?” 

“Yes, most esteemed Emet-Selch.” she whispered, throat dry.

Hades kissed her, slow, purposeful, muddling her mind. Astrea dropped her hands to his waistband, looking for his belt buckle, and his teeth caught her lip, he snatched them away. 

“Willful brat.” Spoke against her lips, he smirked when her knees buckled. The plug still lodged in her ass came back to life, vibrating inside of her, her mouth opened in a soundless groan. 

Hades walked her to his desk, and bent her over, pulled paper and quill in front of her. ”Listen carefully, dear heart.” but the sound her ears focused in on was the unbuckling of his belt, and the slow slide of leather passing through cloth. “To the esteemed members of the Convocation.” 

Astrea wrote, word for word, letter for letter, just as he’d asked, doing her level best to ignore the sounds of her lover undressing behind her. Her legs shook, her lust dripped down her thighs, it would take no effort, she was so sensitive, so desperate. She wrote as if her life depended on his words. 

“I seem to have lost my place, re-read what we have, won’t you, dearest Azem.” 

“To the esteemed members of the Convocation, I write to you today in humble contrition, and beg you forgiveness for my transgressions.” 

Hades nudged her legs open to a wider stance, one hand warm against her lower back. Her heart saw fit to beat out of her chest, her pulse in her ears. 

“I apologize, most sincerely for my blatant disregard of the joint will of my brethren, and regret the actions taken while in an emotionally compromised state.” 

She gasped on the last word, the silken head of his cock slid between her sopping folds, nudging her clit. Hades caged her with his arms, his toned chest slid against her fevered back, his lips against her ear. “Keep going.” he urged, his hips rolling slowly. 

“In my haste I did forget myself,” her breath grew ragged, “and took, without convocation approval, an untested con-- construct of great power. In so doing placing myself, Amaurot, and the people I meant to protect into unknown and dire danger.” 

In one swift action Hades buried himself to the hilt, and Astrea could swear she saw the lifestream flash before her eyes, for the riot of colour and light that flashed before her, she could have cum in that instant were it not for the large hand that wrapped around her throat. Not to squeeze, but to keep her focus.  
  
“Don’t you dare.” He rasped harshly in her ear. 

“I--I can’t.” She sobbed, fraying at the edges as she fought to hold off. 

“Shhhh, you can, you’re so close, dear heart, almost there.” He was still inside of her, but the stretch alone was sending shockwaves through her body, ricocheting through her nerves like levin bolts. He continued. ”While the results were indeed favourable, I did knowingly, and willfully break the tenant of non-interference in natural phenomena.” his dictation was low and harsh, holding his pleasure at bay as much as she was.

Astrea wrote, panting, struggling to keep her penmanship legible with how badly she shook. And then Hades snapped his hip, and she keened. 

Hades continued, "Henceforth, I shall abide by the will of the convocation.” and snapped his hip again. “I pray you forgive me my transgressions,” snap. “I, like all others, am fallible, but I shall endeavor,” Snap. “to always rise to the station of my sacred office.” He bit her ear, “yours in brotherhood, Azem, Shepherd to the Stars, Fourteenth seat of the Convocation.” 

He was reading over her shoulder, checking every word, and when her quill returned to the inkwell, he swept the letter away, into a drawer to keep it from ruin. In one swift motion he pulled out and spun her around, lifting her by her thighs, and laying her back onto his desk. He hooked one leg over his shoulders, kissing her inner knee and sheathed himself again. Word kept, he unshackled them from his test of endurance and flooded her senses, his hands, his soul, he was everywhere driving her to her peak, narrow hips pistoning, deep and harsh, and everything she craved. Hand on her hip he beant, taking her nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting in feral possessiveness. He licked up her throat, nipping at the tender skin, and sucked, leaving his mark. She tangled her hands in his soft, snowy locks, grown damp with his exertion, and pulled, his groan was exquisite. She brought his hungry mouth to hers, and devoured him in a desperate kiss. She was so close, and she arched, breaking the kiss, dizzy with unrelenting pleasure. 

“Cum for me, my dearest Astrea.” His voice was ragged and desperate. 

He slid his long fingers onto her throbbing clit, and she careened towards her completion. The flame of her passion consuming her until there was nothing but white light searing through her every nerve. She thought, briefly, if this was how stars were born. Hades only redoubled his effort, driving her orgasm higher, until it rolled into another, and when she glimpsed his raw, beautifully sublime face, tears sprang to her eyes, and she cried her passion in a single unbroken note. Her beloved, her Hades, her moonlit heart. He lowered his forehead to hers, and she touched his face with aching reverence, undoing him in turn. His moan was a desperate oath, a repeating mantra that was naught but her name.  
  
They lay in the ashes of their passion, breathing hard, Hades cock softened and slipped loose of her sated quim. She shook, a single raw nerve in the aftermath of their union, head light, devoid of coherent thought. She whimpered when she felt a warm wet cloth against her inner thighs and swollen, hypersensitive cunt. Her eyes fluttered open, not knowing when they’d closed and glimpsed her Hades. A soft and tender expression gracing his mien as he cleaned her, and rubbed feeling back into her shivering legs. He eased the plug from her bottom, and her relief was palpable. Finally he lifted her, cradling her in his strong arms, snapping a warm blanket into being to cover her. He would pamper her, apply lotion to the welts he left on her backside, but for now she nestled into the warmth of his arms. Content and on the edge of sleep. 

  
  


“You are the bane of my existence.” Astrea whispered, affectionate. 

“I am the love of your life.” He replied, his voice rough and quiet, a teasing lilt. 

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” Was her answer. 

And she smiled, shifting to meet his soft lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Join the mad band of delightful, kind, and friendly enablers at Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling [Bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic)


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